


A Thousand Times a Day

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: There are lots of different ways that Peter says I love you, without even knowing it. Stiles hears every one of them.





	A Thousand Times a Day

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, time for some shameless fluffy porn for a Sunday morning.

It’s been a hell of a week.

Peter doesn’t know how he got so busy suddenly,  but for someone who doesn’t need to work he seems to be doing a lot of it lately.

Ami and Will are moving in over the road, so he’s been strongarmed into watching Baby Bill as the couple plan and pack and do all the million and one things they need to do before they can finally move in.

Not that really minds - he’s growing quite fond of the two year old.

 It’s very hard to stay immune to the charms of someone who’s always completely delighted to see you. Whenever Bill sees him, his face breaks into a massive smile, and he reaches his arms up, exclaiming “PetePete! Up!”

Peter has never allowed anyone to call him Pete in his life, and he’s definitely going to put a stop to it.

Definitely.

As soon as Bill’s older.

So his days have been filled, and then there have been a couple of people off sick at the bar, so he’s covering shifts there, and he feels like he’s hardly been home.

Stiles, meanwhile, is knee deep in Werewolf Appreciation Week at the library, and this year he’s displaying the Damn Book.

Scott’s in town for a few days so he’s doing story time at the library, which means it’s a whole media circus, and suddenly everyone wants to know how a small town librarian has a copy of the book, and then they realise he’s a werewolf now, and married to an Alpha, and it’s been all twelve hour days and interviews and madness.

Stiles is thrilled Werewolf Week’s taken off, but it still means that he’s been busy as all hell for the past six days.

They’ve literally only seen each other for ten minutes in the morning, and Peter hates it.

He misses his husband, and his wolf misses his mate.

Stiles has texted him though, saying

**Escaped interview with Ellen early and got out of going to dinner. Meet you at home for a hot date?**

Peter texts back a quick **_God, yes please_** and tells the other staff at the bar that since it’s not busy, they’ll have to do without him for the night.

He heads out to the car eagerly, and selects Stiles’ poetry list to listen to on the drive home, just to hear his voice.

But he doesn’t hear the familiar words of Pablo Neruda when he hits play.

It’s something new, something Peter’s never heard before.

He hears Stiles’ voice, tones husky and breathless as he reads.

 

Peter listens to the first four lines of the poem, and pulls over before he’s even out of the car park, so he can listen properly.

_I hear you say  I love you_

_A thousand times a day._

_I hear I love you_

_In the tender brush of your fingers through my hair_

_when you think I’m sleeping._

_I hear I love you_

_In the tendrils of steam that rise_

_from the coffee you bring me_

_because you know I need it._

_I hear I love you_

_In the sound of your pen scratching on paper_

_As you write a grocery list._

_I hear I love you_

_in your laugh_

_when I tell you some stupid joke  
_

_that's not even funny._

_I hear I love you_

_When you say I’m always yours_

_and you bite down on soft flesh._

_I hear I love you_

_In the strength of your embrace_

_As you hold me down tight and fuck me till I cry._

_I hear I love you_

_In your breath_

_hot against my neck._

_I hear I love you_

_In your hand_

_Sliding between my legs_

_Holding them open as you_

_Tease me to readiness._

_I hear I love you_

_In the press of your flesh against mine_

_As you enter me again and again_

_I hear I love you_

_In your grunts and sighs_

_as you claim my body with your own._

_I hear I love you_

_In the essence of you_

_As it runs out of me_

_Hot and sticky_

_Staining the bedding_

_and marking me as yours._

_I hear I love you_

_a thousand times a day_

_Sometimes,  you say it out loud._

 

Peter closes his eyes as he listens, and lets the words roll over him.

When the poem finishes, he blinks once or twice, and drives home much faster than he should.

He opens the door and calls out “Stiles, dammit!”

Stiles appears in the bedroom doorway, He’s barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of his oldest, softest jeans, and Peter can see his tattoos and piercings on display.

He looks mouthwatering attractive, and he damned well knows it, judging by the sparkle in his eye. 

Peter crowds him up against the nearest wall and kisses him breathless, pressing against him and holding him in place as he devours him with teeth and tongue.

“How the hell” he growls out “am I supposed to drive“ he pauses to suck a giant mark into Stiles’ throat “when you put _that_ on my playlist?”

He resumes his attack on Stiles’ throat then, not stopping until bruises litter his mates’ skin.

Stiles moans loudly, and tilts his head back further to allow Peter better access.

Peter pulls him in for more kisses, and his hands move up and down Stiles’ body, touching, caressing, soaking up the much needed contact.

 “You liked it then?” Stiles asks, slightly glassy eyed.

“Damn, rabbit, I don’t know where you found it, but yes, I liked it. Had to pull the car over” Peter pants.

He rubs one hand over Stiles’ crotch then, teasing.

“Peter, more” pants Stiles, attempting to gain more friction, but Peter pulls his hand away.

“Oh no, rabbit, you can wait, for making me listen to that damned poem in a public carpark” he growls out.

Stiles laughs breathlessly, saying “Wow, it really did it for you huh?”

“I’ve missed you so much, rabbit, feels like weeks since I’ve seen you” Peter complains.

“And then you put _that_ in my car with no warning. You’re lucky I don’t fuck you till you can’t walk for the rest of the day.”

Stiles quirks an eyebrow at him.

So, what's stopping you?” he asks.

Peter picks Stiles up then and holds him against the wall as he starts to bite his chest and shoulders, leaving dark crescents with clear tooth marks on his pecs and collarbone, to replace the ones on his neck that have already faded. Stiles hisses at the sting and bite, but he arches into the touch.

‘Missed you, Wolfman” he manages to get out before Peter renders him temporarily speechless by pulling _hard_ on his piercings with his teeth.

He makes a strangled noise and cups his hand behind Peter’s head, holding him in place against his chest. Peter continues to bite and suck and lick and tease, until Stiles is panting against him and pleading “Fuck Peter, bed, please?”

Peter pulls away a little and raises a brow at him. “Not the wall, rabbit?”

Stiles shakes his head decisively.

“Been too long.  Need to feel you, wolf needs you. Can’t touch you enough this way.”

Peter obligingly carries his young, gorgeous husband to bed, running his hands up and down his back as he walks, feeling the muscles bunch and move as Stiles wraps his arms around his neck.

Once they make to the bedroom, Peter puts Stiles down, but keeps a finger hooked through his belt buckle, leading him across the room. Stiles follows willingly, and Peter takes him over to the chair they have in the corner and pushes him down.

He kneels before him and swiftly undoes his belt, pulling it through the loops and throwing it across the room. He pops the fly on the butter soft jeans, and lifts Stiles’ hips so he can shimmy them down.

Stiles is naked underneath, and Peter breathes out a curse as he takes in the sight of his lover’s hard length, swollen and twitching and absolutely gorgeous.

He wraps a hand around the shaft and starts to stroke lazily, earning him a moan from Stiles. He continues to move his hand steadily up and down, as he suckles gently on the very tip of Stiles’ cock, flicking his tongue rapidly against the slit until Stiles is gasping.

He opens his throat and takes Stiles down deeply then, reveling in the taste and smell and sensation of finally getting to touch his husband again. He sucks and he swallows, working his throat around his partner’s considerable length, and he feels Stiles bury his hands in his hair to hold him in place. Peter increases his pace until he feels Stiles start to buck his hips up beneath him, and then he puts everything he has into bringing him to completion, swirling his tongue, rolling his sac gently in his palms, bobbing his head faster and faster, until  it’s too much and Stiles comes with a strangled cry.

He swallows quickly, and pulls off, licking his lips.

Stiles is heavy lidded and panting above him, slumping down in the chair slightly as his whole body relaxes.

Peter rises smoothly to his feet and stands before him for a moment, and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he lifts Stiles over his shoulder and carries him across the room, throwing him onto the bed forcefully.

Stiles laughs as he bounces with the force of the throw, and extends his arms above his head.

He’s a picture of sinfulness, lying there with his jeans caught round one ankle, knees spread, cock still glistening with come and spit, and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Peter wants to fuck him senseless, but he also wants to slowly slide into his willing body, and hold him gently, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

But more than anything, right now, he wants to touch him.

He strips his clothes off and drops them haphazardly as he climbs up onto the bed and covers Stiles’ body with his own, pinning the younger man down and rubbing up against him.

Stiles raises his head for a kiss, and Peter obliges him.

They do nothing but make out and fondle each other for long minutes, just enjoying the contact. Soon though, Peter’s painfully aware that it’s been nearly a week since they’ve shared anything other than a quick hug and a kiss, and he needs more.

He pulls back, whispers “need you, rabbit” and rolls them over so that Stiles is on top of him. He runs his hands down between his ass cheeks, a single finger searching for his rim.

He feels it, then. The end of a plug. He gives it a tug, and feels it slide easily in and out.

“Fuck, rabbit” he moans out.

“Promised you a hot date didn’t I?”  Stiles smirks.

Peter rolls them again, because fuck, he wants, and he wants _now_.

He pulls the plug out and throws it aside, and he can see the lube leaking out, so he just pushes his cock in, groaning at the heat and pressure.

Beneath him, Stiles wraps his legs around Peter’s waist and presses his heels into his ass, pressing him further forwards, forcing him deeper.

 _Aaaah….aah….aah_ … Stiles makes low noises with each slow press forwards Peter makes as he rolls his hip in a slow rhythm, and gods, now that he’s deep inside his husband he wants nothing more than to take this slow and make it last, possibly forever.

Stiles obviously feels the same, because he makes no attempt to speed up the pace, simply rocks back against Peter as he continues to press in, slow and deep, slow and deep, dragging it out like the best kind of torture.

Peter can feel himself getting closer, but he’s not ready, so he slows his movements to nothing more than the tiniest of rocking motions while he attempts to hold back.

Stiles looks up at him contentedly, making a humming noise.

“Could do this all night, now that I’ve got you here to myself” he sighs happily.

Peter traces his fingers gently over Stile’s cheek, still rocking slowly, tiny movements, just enough to make Stiles moan and gasp a little.

“Oh, we will sweetheart, this is just the start” he promises.

He increases the power behind his thrusts then, but keeps the pace slow, so that soon he’s solidly driving forwards and earning more of those delicious noises. He unerringly hits Stiles’ prostate and sees that he’s hardening again, despite his earlier orgasm.

God, Peter loves wolf stamina.

They rock together, moving as one, both thrilling in the pull and drag of slick flesh, both letting out the occasional loud moan as their bodies come together just so, and cause a wave of pleasure.

Finally, though, Peter can’t hold back much longer, and he pulls out before quickly turning Stiles onto his stomach and sliding in from behind, pressing himself deeper into his body. He grips Stiles tightly by the hips and holds him in place as he slams into him relentlessly. Stiles is panting by now, desperate to come, and he reaches below himself and strokes his cock firmly, not stopping until he shoots hot streams all over the bedding.

The sight of Stiles throwing his head back, showing the straining tendons in his neck as he chases  that elusive ecstasy, drives Peter wild, and he leans forwards and bites down firmly on the back of his neck. The cry Stiles makes sends him into a frenzy, and he fucks in as hard and as deep as he can, before coming suddenly with a gasp.

He lies there, panting and sweaty and completely satisfied for now.

He rolls them onto their sides, still nestled inside his husband’s body. He feels like he could happily stay buried there for days, and he nuzzles and scents at Stiles contentedly.

Stiles rocks back gently against him, and he feels a trickle of come oozing from his body, and he thinks of the poem.

He’ll have to find out who wrote it , he thinks.

But for now, he’s distracted by Stiles rocking and pressing against him, clenching around him, coaxing him back to hardness again, and really, it’s not going to take a hell of a lot.

“Want more, rabbit?” he murmurs into Stiles’ ear, breath hot on his neck.

“Want it all, Peter, please. Want your knot” Stiles breathes back.

Peter’s cock goes from mildly interested to rock hard in seconds at the request.

But still.

“I’m never going to say no to that, but any reason why?” Peter asks curiously.

“Missed you so much this week, Peter. And you’re mine, and I’m yours, and I need to feel you claim me.”

“Always mine, rabbit” Peter growls out, as he bites and nuzzles his mate.  

And he thinks about the words of the poem again.

“You wrote it, didn’t you?” he says, as realization dawns.

Stiles continues to rock back on his hard cock, answering with a “mmhmmm”.

“Wanted something just for you. Couldn’t find anything I liked” he replies nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal.

And for him it might not be, after all he deals in words for a living, but Peter thinks of how busy the past few weeks have been, and thinks about Stiles finding the time to write the poem and upload it to his phone.

He thinks of Stiles ducking out of his interview early to meet him at home.

He thinks of Stiles dressing in those jeans and stretching himself out in readiness for Peter’s homecoming.

He thinks of Stiles doing those things for him, and he hears _I love you_.

And he says it back, with his hands and his mouth and his body.

And much much later, as they’re locked together on his knot, both of them gasping and breathless and half-drunk with pleasure, he says it with his words.

 


End file.
